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EEINA 




jfrancisica 3^tim 

ISebicateb to 

^f)e Cttp of ^aint jFrandsi 




^ FRANCISCA REIN A is published under the auspices 
of the Pacific Coast Women's Press Association for 
the benefit of its honored member. Miss Ina Coolbrith 



Jfrancis^ca 3^eina 



BY 



AMELIA WOODWARD TRUESDELL 

Author of " A California Pilgrimage among the Old Missions " 
" La Parra Grande, a Legend of the Santa 
Barbara Grape Vine'' 



BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER 
WDt #orfjam tresis; 

1908 



Copyright, 1 907, hy Amelia W. Truesdell 
All Rights Reserved 



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Original Illustrations by Maynard Dixon 



Drawings hy Leslie Hunter and Herbert Igoe, reproduced by courtesy 
of Sunset Magazine, San Francisco 



Art Photographs by Frances Reid McCulloch 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



Contents! 



Francisca Pvcina 
Francisca Dolorosa 
Francisca Madre 



Let Us Forget 



Francisca's Thanksgiving 



PAGE 

7 
II 

15 
19 
21 



How We Went out 

Francisca Diligente 

The Simple Life 

On Sidewalks 
In Tents 
In Clubs 

The Reason Why . 



24 
32 



34 
38 
38 

42 



Francisca Gloriosa 



44 




Frannsca Reina 



FRANCISCA REINA 

A stricken queen, but still a quee i of queens, 

She sat upon the sloping of her hills 

Where wreck and fire had danced the dance of death. 

Her forehead bowed upon her knees she sat. 
An instant stunned by her transcendant woe. 
The smoke still burnt her eyelids, and her throat 
Quivered with pungent acids of the flame. 




5^1 






% 



" Where wreck and fire had 
danced the dance oj death" 

The acrid vapors of the steaming muck 
Were in her nostrils and her slackened breath 
Was spent through ashes on her bleeding lips. 

Awhile all paralyzed, then slow her head 

Upraised. Her eyes were dim. She saw through mists 

The vista of her hills all gray and still. 

When would they laugh again ? Ten thousand homes 

Had burnt their hearthstones into monuments 

For her as dead. 

7 



FRANCISCA REINA 




"The vista of her hills . . . when would they laugh again" 

That cup unveiled she saw 

Which tate has ready for the desolate. 

The black wine of despair each hour new pressed 
From envy of the nether gods. This cup, 
Scorned lightly in her pride, he thrust at her 
With coward jeers: "Drink, drink, thou boastful dame. 
Dost mock it now ? There's nothing more for thee." 
Once glance! The vision came! Her spirit's light 
Broke forth in aureole about her head — 
Glory immortal of a risen soul. 

Upright she stood. Hot cinders burnt her feet — 
She knew it not. With fingers tense, the cup 
She seized and, like one born to her own house, 
That black wine of despair, she tossed aloft 
Upon the embers and the blistering rocks. 



FRANCISCA REINA 

" 'Tis not for me, a queen, this dastard draught, 
For lo! They come — my children from the sea 
Of fire — each man a king. Their garments smoke. 
Their brows deep seamed but bright with hope. Their eyes 
Are brave, their faces set to conquer death. 
My sons! my sons!" With touch of its old joy 
Her voice rang out among the blackened tombs. 
** Come near, ye bruised ones. Unflinching hearts, 
Together make we sacrificial vows 
With orisons unto the rising sun." 




" Ten thousand hotncs had burnt their hearthstones into monuments for her as dead' 




Franctsca Dolorosa 



FRANCISCA DOLOROSA 

Fore-doomed the honor of the age to bear, 

By Fate hand-gripped, we went forth from our homes. 

From mornings to the ending days we fared, 

And from three midnights to their dawns again 

From place to place; the while, a demon crazed. 

Destruction followed in a pact with Death. 

And yet a song was on our lips. We smiled 

Into each other's eyes in comradeship. 

The great heart of humanity awoke. 

With throbs which stilled the consciousness of self. 

And we went forth to night that was as day, 
To day that was as night, for time was not. 
The parrot clinging to his master's sleeve 
Forgot his chattering. The songless birds 
Shivered upon the perch. Dumb creature's eyes 
Were pleading unto us. Go forth ? Whither? 
To pavements choked with people dazed by shock, 
Smoke-strangled, bent beneath their burdened backs, 
Half dumb and goblin-like in flame-lit smoke; 
Streets harsh with scrapings of a hasty flight, 
Ashriek with dragging things that blocked our feet. 
The mountains called and from the docks the cry, 
" This way for life! To save your life, this way." 
For hours, the sea, far out, had roared its pain. 

But new, the bay, unmindful cf the wounds 
Of Mother Earth, said, " Come, I know a shore 
Ot rest : " and thousands followed it to peace, 
On waves resplendent in a world of fire, — 
The light from an Immortal's flaming nest. 

We smelled the smoke cf things revered. Our mouths 

Were bitter with the char of household gods. 

We trod the cinders from the city's heart. 

Our city, loved as hearthstones are. Whither ? 

The parks! A woman's cry. There stood strong men 

Shoulder to shoulder, their broad backs a wall 

Arc und one stricken ere her time, her bed 

The street. Aye, aye, men's backs a hasty wall 

To guard that moment holy, from the crowd. 

Instinct cf manhood unto motherhood; 

O God ! The glory and the pain of it ! 

The gentleness of those rough hands which bore 

To sheltering that prostrate form! O face 

Newborn, adust with ashes cf its home! 



II 



12 ' FRANCISCA DOLOROSA 

Whither ? Unto the hills still green with spring ? 
The slender fingers of a jewelled dame 
Spread out her fluffy down in silken sheath, 
Beneath the forehead of a negro child. 
Her store cf dainties hasty seized, she brake 
As bread unto God's homeless multitude; 
And seemed it to increase, as did the loaves 
Of Him who fed the crowds in Galilee. 

r 

While tongues of dogs unknown licked up the crumbs 
From off our hands in brotherhood of woe. 

The auto of the millionaire became 

A thing of life, the while the man's own hands 

Were black with gathering waifs and strays. This car 

Was God's swift messenger unto the maimed. 

It flew filled with sweet faces of the nuns 

To minister beside the narrow cot; 

With the red crosses of the brotherhood 

Aglow, it flew unto the service field 

Of skill and love; then black with priestly robes 

Which held within the sacred vest, the sealed 

Viaticum to cheer the way to death. 

Piled with the fallen and the halt it flew; 

Then comfcrt-nigh for hungry, shivering forms. 

This pleasure thing built for the rich man's toy! 

And thus unto the sand dunes and the tides 

We fled, alone or in some brother's care; 

And that red glare beat on us yet for daA's 

Till hearts grew strong with giving others cheer. 

No strangers then ! All races were akin 

By God's one fatherhood to all. A man 

Was but a man unto a man. Enough! 

One brand of pain was on us all. I knew 

My sister by the grime upon her hands. 

My mother! Was not she that babbling one 

Who tottered from the dooi'way of her shack 

With smoking garments prone upon my feet ? 

Net mine ? Those children dragging at my skirts ? 

My brcther from the hill of palaces, 

His softened features gray with cinder dust 

Of mansions, now forgetting his own loss. 

Tender as to the firstborn of his house, — 

He wraps within his coat of sable warmth 

The sleeping child he found upon the street. 

The holy joy of such a fellowship! 

The angels must have wept and worshipped God. 



FRANCISCA DOLOROSA 



13 



Thou city of our hearts ! With that first rage 
Of passion primitive we loved, we loved. 
Yet helpless saw thee struggle, gasp and fall. 
What meant the song upon our lips ? The uplift 
Of shock ? The nervous power of pain supreme ? 
Nay, nay! The angel hands were blinding us, 
Lest knowing we go mad before the chrism 
Ot hope, their fingers touched upon our eyes. 
The solemn joy of newborn faith in life. 
And taith born of catastrophe is strength. 
Extremity like thine revealed to us 
That thou wert of God's plan unto the world 
To civilize. We saw that thou must rise 
In evolution of His purposes 
From thy baptism of fire to higher life. 
Thus meant the song unconscious on our lips; 
A Resurrexit in a Requiem Chant. 





"But in Fair's ch.allenoc fitu.'s its best" 



FRANCISCA MADRE 

New Tear, 1 907 

What cheer, Francisco Madre, what of cheer 

For this, the world's expectant year ? 

Struggles uncanny hast thou now 

While still upon thy cheek the tear. 

The laborer's sweat is on thy brow; 

Thy hands have changed the timbrels for the spade; 

Thy feet that danced go firm and unafraid. 

With front of light thou fa rest to and fro 

Among a city full 

Of wrecks, each stone a shrine to memory dear. 



■■S^>w<K.^X «»,->-;'■■ 




15 



i6 



FRANCISCA MADRE 




^ 



" Travail of tasks gigantic must o't-rfill thy soul" 



When smites all ruthlessly upon thy face 

The crime of blood, while from thy noble place 

Greed's hooked fingers reach to thy disgrace. 

With such unnatural foe 

Thy courage is more pitiful 

Than thy first woe. 

O life that riots in the Western breast! 
Despair it knows not, no, nor rest. 
But in Fate's challenge finds its best. 
Through all the pulses of thy throbbing mart, 
It thrills thee, city of the bleeding heart; 
Thrills thee with promise of the coming year. 

Francisca of our love, what cheer ? 

On every side we hear 

The hammer and the chisel ply, 

And creaking cf the wains that thrust us by. 

The carven stone had been thy creed, 

But to thy children's sudden need 

Thou offerest with averted eye 

A sheath of iron and wood; 



FRANCISCA MADRE 

They answer thrcugh a stifled cry, 

" Yea, mother, this is trood i " 

And pledge thee for a glad New Year. 

Francisca, watcher of the night, what cheer ? 

By day, thcu paintest in the future's glow, 

The tair dream city which the world shall know. 

But when thou gazest through the chill 

Of night from hill to blackened hill. 

Travail of tasks gigantic, must o'erfill 

Thy soul. 'Tis then thou shudderest with the pain 

Of Memory and Hope in mortal strain. 

But Hope, the strong twin-sister of the Dawn, 

Forever young, smiles with each rising sun 

Upon the yet wreck-jagged slopes, and lo! 

The broken hearthstones flush in rosy glow, 

Above new homes that nestle at thy feet, 

Like the swift-lighted gulls of gray. And thou, 

Dear mother, liftest thy rejoicing brow, 

As the fleet-footed moments run, 

Foreshadowed splendors of the year to ^reet. 

Thou hast rich welcome for the hovering Year 

That poises on thy threshold half in fear. 

There's a cheer, Francisca Madre, there is cheer. 



'7 




" 'T, 



Memory and Hope in mortal strain' 




" Thou hast rich welcome for the hovering Year 
That poises on thy threshold half in fear. 
There' s a cheer, Francisca Madre, there is cheer." 




Church of the Advent 



LET US FORGET 



The horror which surpassed all telling; 
The memories still welling, welling, 

— Exhaustless fountain of our pain — 
Let us forget. 
The nights that made us gray ere mornings, 
The desolation of those dawnings, 

Whose like, no suns of fire-red stain 
Had seen before nor may again. 
Let us forget. 

The losses which have made us brothers; 
The sufferings, our own and others. 

E'en wrecking of a life's long toil, 
Let us forget. 
Lest we grow hard and unforgiving, 
Lest we lose that great joy of living — 

The might to wrest from out the soil 
The wealth that is our rightful spoil, 
Let us forget. 



20 



LET US FORGET 

Lest we get low and weary-hearted 
Thinking of old and new thus parted 

— A gulf whose bridge is hope alone — 
Let us forget. 
Let us look onward to the morrows; 
As monuments o'er buried sorrows 

Piling the best the world has known 
Of iron strength and carven stone. 

Let us forget; 
Lord God! Help us forget. 




Old Mission Doloics 



1 




With a purpose as given our fathers who budded good cities and true 



FRANCISCA'S THANKSGIVING 



When the hordes of barbarian Persians 

Laid the beauty of Athens in waste. 

With her sons came their women and children 

Making vows to the gods, and in haste 

Bearing stones for the walls and the turrets, 

Till a city arose at whose shrine 

The centuries kneeled in unlading 

Their argosies' purple and wine 

Then iEschylus, reading his vision, 

Sang the song of the city's new morn; 

Myron felt for the soul of the marble 

Which in Phidias later was born. 

By a power more dread than an army 

Destruction has come to our gates. 

And it struck with a terror and blindness 

Which tossed us like toys of the Fates. 



21 



22 



FRANCISCA'S THANKSGIVING 




Pioneer Monument 



But give thanks that man's greatest is left us, 

The strength and the courage to do, 

A purpose as grim as our fathers' 

Who huilded good cities and true. 

Give thanks tor the grain's golden harvest. 

Those placers of wind-rippled fields; 

For the opened storehouse of the mountains 

Where each year its new treasure up-yields. 

True children of Argonauts are we 

And our struggles to theirs are akin; 

Though the trials be hosts like the Persians 

An Athenian valor shall win. 

Then Art shall arise from the ashes 

An immortal unhurt by her scars; 



FRANCISCA'S THANKSGIVING 



23 



And a voice shall be heard in the ruins 
With a song that shall quicken the stars. 
As with vows, the builders of Athens 
Made a shrine of each wall they upraised, 
So may we make our city a temple 
To the God whom our fathers praised. 

Then spread we the feast of Thanksgiving 
With a hymn for the days of old; 
Cheers shall ring for the arduous Present 
And the triumphs the Future shall hold. 




Monument oj Robert Louts Stevenson in Portsmouth Square 



HOW WE WENT OUT 

She wore five skirts, he wore two hats, 

He led the dog, she carried cats; 

A blanket, soldierwise, about 

Each waist was coiled, they both were stout. 

He had a bundle on his back 

And dragged a trunk along the track. 

She bore a hat box and a grip; 

The squirming kittens made her trip. 

Those catlings yowled beneath her weight; 

He picked her up and swore at Fate. 

In baleful glare of reddish light, 

They knew not were it day or night — 

They plodded towards the Golden Gate, 

Then sat upon their trunk to wait. 

Was this the end or should they go 

Still farther to the "Westward Ho!" 




They found a waif fast strapped on skates 

Crying by the Presidio gates; 

He'd lost his pa and on his head. 

Top-heavy, bore the family bed. 

She cheered him with a mother squeeze, 

And fed him of the bread and cheese 

With other pets around their knees. 



24 



HOW WE WENT OUT 



25 



The flames had reached a hotel dome! 

A lady rich in mines of Nome 

Rushed down the stairs to find the street, 

Rolling her packs before her feet. 

Her latest hat she had assumed 

To save its owlet, newly plumed. 

A skirt above her robe de nuit 

Was all the dress that one could see; 

Her Paris gowns of great expense 

Were not just then in evidence 

Save by a cuff^ or bit of lace 

Exuding from a pillow case. 

She dragged her bundles in this plight, 

Half consciously she felt them light; 

One backward glance! A wretched wrack 

Of nameless garments marked her track. 

A rubber bag — the long-necked kind. 

Was crawling like a worm behind. 

A passer cried — or was it craze ? — 

"Madam, your hat is all ablaze." 

She dashed it down upon the pave, 

That bird must go her life to save. 

One back despairing look she cast. 

The sight will haunt her to the last; 

That owl's glass eyes in vengeful ire 

Glared at her from a wreath of fire. 



A forty-niner, camped in town. 

Had watched the city burning down; 

The dignity of one tiled hat 

He'd reached throush suffering, and that 

To save, he'd make a sacrifice. 

And so he wore it; awful price! 




An outgrown baby cart he found, 

And started prospecting new ground, 

Unconsciously he took the word 

Of the old slogan, long unheard 

Since he went broke upon the Trust; 

" Pardner, we'll make Twin Peaks or bust." 



26 HOW WE WENT OUT 

A house by hotel-swelldom kept. 

Italian virtuosos slept 

Far up and dreamed of Italy. 

Vendettas of dear Sicily, 

Vesuvius and her latest tricks; 

When suddenly the rattling bricks 

Made nightmare of the passing dream; 

Vesuvius, still the latest theme. 

Came first to mind, as down the stair 

They rushed upon the facing square; 

Cried one with vast dramatic air, 

Arms waving wildly in despair, 

"O thou, Vesuvius, my own! 

A shake like this thou ne'er hast known ! 

Why did I leave my mountain thus ? 

Heart of my heart, Vesuvius! 

Oh, give me my Vesuvius!" 

This tragic artist wore the while 

Pajamas of the latest style. 

What man, think you, it was would do so ? 

His name ? The rhyme demands Caruso ? 

In garments anything but fresh, 
She rolled in amplitude of flesh 
From one to other of her brood, 
Asweat with love and packing food. 
"Here, Jakey, come and lif dis pile; 
Don't go yourself away a mile, 
Stay wid your pa and help to pull 
Dat trunk, for it is plenty full. 

Here, Bruder Abe, you're high and strong 
To push your gran'pa's chair along. 
Now go him slow or you make wrong. 
Vere's Zolomons ? Vot for you vait ? 
I tells you keep dat puggy straight. 
Der papy! She is pack inside; 
Now give your little sister ride. 
Don't look aroun', but mind your feet. 
How much times must I tole you so ? 
You mischief poy, now dare she go! 
You spills mine papy in der street!" 

" O God of Israel ! " groaned the sire, 
"Found Father Abram once a fire } 
Had Yacob in der vilderniss 
Pulled ever such a load like this ?" 



HOW WE WENT OUT 



27 




From puffy pores the sweat oozed out, 
For he was greasy, short, and stout. 

"You look just Hke those pack mules, Jim, 
When we came down from Washbowl Rim;' 
The grips were strapped all over him. 
"All right, my girl, you can't say much 
About appearances and such; 
Give me another pack before 
I wedge you through the big front door. 
You are so trussed up with these things 
You cannot spread your angel wings. 
But you're an angel and dead game; 
Let's hit the trail in search of fame." 
"O! hush, you boy, it is a crime 
To joke at such an awful time. 
Our home! How can we let it go! 

Here Eddy died — O Jim, you know " 

"Don't cry, old girl; if I break up 
I might collapse that painted cup. 
The mines at Washbowl still aie rich; 
Oh, luck, we'll get the diamond hitch." 
Whence but from guardian angel's power 
Come cheer and courage in such hour f 



28 



HOW WE WENT OUT 




Guiseppi swore this was not Rome; 
He sweat, he wept, and thought of home 
On Tiber's bank, but quite forgot 
That sometimes there the meals were not 
As frequent as the classic shade. 
Nor was the bundle he had made 
At leaving Rome too great to bear. 
Of goods to-day, if he'd been there 
How easy he'd have dragged his share. 

He met the barber, old Frangois; 
They lauded, in their two patois. 
The beauties of the old countrie. 
But chose to burn and still be free. 



"Now, Biddy, give yourself a hunch 
And get the childer in a bunch. 
The soldier orthers us to go." 
Now Biddies argue well, you know, 
And Paddy had a bad half hour 
Explaining military power; 



HOW WE WENT OUT 



29 




And not until appeared once more 

A gun which seemed to fill the door, 

Its dreaded threat would she obey; 

"O Pat, begorra is the day 

I left ould Ireland for you. 

As granny said, i' faith 'tis thrue." 

When she begun, it was a whirl, 
She loaded down each boy and girl; 
Hitched up to go-carts full of duds. 
They pulled and frisked like Shetland studs. 

She harnessed Pat to homemade fills 
And pushed behind to cross the hills. 
"And is't to lave the dare ould place!" 
She cried. " O Mary, full of grace ! 
Mother o' God, look down the day! 




30 



HOW WE WENT OUT 




Pat, mind the childer," — and away 

Within the church's topphng door 

One precious moment on the floor 

She told her beads with Aves o'er. 

That church, fire-doomed! Her prayer its last! 

O faith God-blest for ages past! 

An auto piled with silken puffs 

And glittering Oriental stuffs 

Drove down upon the sand, wave-damp, 

Seeking in haste a midnight camp. 

A group of Chinamen was near 

Each man an Oriental seer, 

Calm in his fatalistic cheer. 

With rice-bag parcels banked around. 

They stood or squatted on the ground. 

Quick spoke the leader of the crew, 

" My boys ! you like they helpee you ? " 

"Thanks, John, these ladies are so cold;" 

The stranger said, and offered gold; 

" Me helpee you, no likee pay; 

Me alle same white man to-day." 

Then with their deft, long-fingered hands, 

They improvised upon the sands 

A tent of Persian prayer-cloths made 

With priceless rugs for carpet laid; 

A couch of fluffy pillows piled, 

Those heads to doubtful rest beguiled. 



HOW WE WENT OUT 



31 



When morning dawned, red-flushed but chill, 

Pulses were slow and voices still; 

Within the tent all cheer had died; 

A squeaky treble piped outside, 

"Madam, she likee bowl of rice ? 

I think she find him belly nice." - 

FluflTy and white each kernel stood, 

A thing alone, a steaming food. 

Cooked by this wrinkled Chinaman, 

Cooked as Celestials only can. 

The native dames were unsurprised, 

The Eastern ladies recognized 

A yellow angel, but disguised. 







" That church, pre-doomed ! Her prayer its last" 




FRANCISCA DILIGENTE 

May to August, 1906 

No more " Indifferent to Fate 

She sits beside the Golden Gate;" 

But casts about with watchful eyes 

It Diligence perchance surprise 

Some wandering relief supplies; 

We thought we had no public squares 

But she has found them everywheres; 

They showed up quick with army tents 

And shacks and cooking implements; 

While from a bread line improvised 

Good things she duly authorized, 

With life no longer simplified 

To coffee and a bacon side. 

She mothers well these refuge camps; 

And watches all the flickering lamps. 

Patrols guard them till morning breaks, 

These homeless folk from fire and quakes. 

South Market Street in peace abides 

Indefinite upon the sides 

Of hilly parks whose sacred green 

Had never such despoiling seen. 

In vain the neighbors may protest 

That this continuance is no jest. 

For mighty ones serenely say 

"These camper folk have come to stay;" 

While vicious wags, "Ah, ha! The boats 

Political are steered by votes!" 

She gives them tent-schools every day; 

The bands for them on Sunday play; 

Sermons and hymns, each to his mind. 

Assorted here the pious find. 



32 



FRANCISCA DILIGENTE 



33 



A table d'hote she has essayed 
Beneath the park trees' ready shade; 
Till those who toil for bread and cheese 
Have sometimes envied refugees. 
Who would attack a pile ot brick 
When soup was waiting hot and thick ? 
Who likes the mortar-laden breeze 
While seats are empty under trees ? 
And yet, her naughty children cried: 
"O Ma, such eggs! They ain't half fried." 
Hear that, ye hapless ones who pay 
And humbly take what comes your way. 
Ingratitude was such surprise 
That poor Francisca wiped her eyes. 
And thought of her reduced supplies; 
Not being learned in landlord lore 
Of showing grumblers to the door. 

Far from indifferent, of late 

She oftentimes consults with Fate 

In watchings round the Golden Gate. 





"These were a liorie\nioonnig pair and jound nrst housekeeping no joke " 

THE SIMPLE LIFE— ON SIDEWALKS 

April, 1906 

A lady, dainty, young, and fair, 
Was cocking in the open air; 
She wore a sweater for a waist 
Her Easter hat her head begraced, 
Her husband — also with a hat, 
A silken tile, — demurely sat 
Coatless upon the curb, his feet 
Adorned the gutter cf the street. 
Their stove was but a pile cf bricks 
Flung down by recent chimney tricks 
Of taking headers through the air; 



34 



THE SIMPLE LIFE — ON SIDEWALKS 35 

These were a honeymooning pair 

And found first housekeeping no joke; 

Her eyes were streaming with the smoke, 

The while the sputtering ham she fried; 

The chips he diligently plied 

To flames that blew four ways at once; 

He softly swore he was a dunce 

Who never built a stove before; 

"My love," he cried, "it needs a door." 

And then a moment all went well, 

W^hile west winds had a lucid spell; 

" Now hurry. Jack, while things are hot; 

You take the pot 

I've got the pans. There come patrols. 

You'd best stamp out these burning coals." 

Then up the front steps they'd run. 

Laughing as if such life were tun. 

The life indoors was simpler still 

And all day long a midnight chill 

Wrapped her like hydropathic sheet; 

She went outdoors to warm her teet; 

No spark upon the hearthstone cheered, 

For if a curl of smoke appeared, 

A bayonet six feet long or more 

Came flashing through the opened door. 

And water was a luxury rare 

To be conserved with greatest care. 

For when Jack brought it from afar. 

Where things escaped the recent jar, 

To heat it for her selfish use 

Were of his kindness and abuse. 

The evenings were in simple lite 

Devoid of interesting strite. 

If through the streets they took a turn. 

Because indoors no lights could burn. 

The omnipresent khakis said, 

" 'Tis time good folks were all in bed ; " 

The simple life at night was dark 

For if escaped one little spark 

From hidden candle after eight. 

There came a rattling at the gate, — 

"Put out that light!" a stern voice cried. 

"All right," he amiably replied. 

(They thought to have a little game 

And drew the curtains for the same.) 

He tried to imitate the mouse. 

But tumbled things about the house 

Till echos rang, for every chair 

Seemed placed just right to make him swear. 



THE SIMPLE LIFE — ON SIDEWALKS 



Against the door he bumped his head 
Then tumbled ciossways into bed. 
It was a morning's task to find 
The garments he had cast behind. 

You teachers try this simple life 
You call "devoid of nervous strife." 
See hov\^ you feel the soul's spent wings 
Flutter amid such simple things. 
See how the dross, by spirit fire 
Is sublimated from desire, — 
That lust for comfort of the flesh; 
Mark me, you'll know yourselves afresh. 




More advanced housekeeping 



THE SIMPLE LIFE -ON SIDEWALKS 

This gleeful couple did their best 

To jollify the long-drawn test, 

But daily trial recognized 

— By moonlight they philosophized — 

That life somewhat more civilized 

Was worth the burdens it disguised. 



37 




Making the best of it 



THE SIMPLE LIFE— IN TENTS 

Ten thousand khaki tents or more 

The parks' green hillsides scattered o'er 

To the idealist might seem 

Idyllic as a shepherd's dream. 

As landscape gardening, they're not bad; 

Worse picnic places rnay be had; 

As summer camps a month or more 

One may endure the flapping door 

And drafts that sweep across the floor; 

The dust and cdors in the clothes 

To tent flaps pinned in swinging rows; 

Wall shadows cast by careless lamps 

Betraying secrets to the camps; 

As habitations to endure 

They should be studied for a cure. 

The simple life in them pursued 

Proves both disquieting and crude; 

That which in art is picturesque, 

For living proves a coarse burlesque. 



THE SIMPLE LIFE — IN CLUBS 

April, 1906 

From various junketings with fate 

Six club men sat in dreary state; 

Millions they'd lost, each man a few, 

A few were left to start anew. 

"No hard luck stories, now, you boys" 

(Each man was gray). "Let's tell our ioys." 

A deep voice growled, "My throat's so dry, 

There's one old ioy I'd like to try. 

You see those tumblers upside down, 

And not a lemon in the town ?" 

He groaned at such unnatural woe 

Who'd seen unmoved his millions go. 

One suff^erer bounded from his seat. 

Flew down the stairs as light and fleet 

As wings of youth were on his feet. 

For this hour saved from fire and shock, 
An office stood upon the dock. 
A man of venerable mien 
Writing alone could there be seen; 

38 



THE SIMPLE LIFE — IN CLUBS 39 

And thither came our milUonaire 
FamiUar and most debonair. 
" Say, Mac, those fellows at the clubl 
You know they've had an awful rub." 

Behind his spectacles' gold rim 
Relaxed a bit. Max' visage grim; 
Those words appealed right up to him. 
The office door he gently locked. 
His visitor seemed nothing shocked. 
Respectable and quite correct 
A safe stood there; who would suspect 
That comfort, contraband, could hide 
Within its little black inside ? 
From double depths all cool and dark 
That host drew forth a glinting spark, 
The which his eager guest received 
As writ of life to the reprieved. 
" Come here, you love," he softly cried, 
" My coat's got loose enough to hide 
"A dozen such. Let's take a ride." 
Then forth upon the dock they walked. 
These Innocents at home, and talked 
With manners grave and dignified, 
How life must be more simplified; 
On reconstruction well discoursed, 
That forces must be reinforced. 
Until they reached the auto, where 
The cops passed by with guileless air. 
Mac whispered then, "Now speed that road 
As if you had a red cross load." 
What general or potentate 
Triumphant from the field or state, 
Could'with this hero be compared. 
This dear old swell who loved and dared ? 
And when he set that bottle down. 
Those clubmen seized the Bourbon crown 
As rebels often had before. 
The hero was ordained to pour 
Into each glass the precious store. 
Reverent they watched the sacred rite. 
Then held their crystals to the light, 
And how they read its golden glow, 
'Tis the elect alone can know. 
They passed the nectar to and fro 
Beneath each expert nostril's play — 
Delicious test of its bouquet; 



40 



THE SIMPLE LIFE — IN CLUBS 



So lovers revel In delay. 
And then a solemn moment fell — 
Each glass was drained, its dainty well 
A heaven, no futile pen may tell. 

The cork they toasted to the cheer 
And hung it on the chandelier; 
Beribboned there it swings, the first 
To break the record of the thirst. 




"The cork they toasted to the cheer 
And hun? it on the chandelier 




Simple life in Bohemia 




" That martyi ablaze Iw iviotcaoorj aloft" 

THE REASON WHY 

Up and down the face of Telegraph Hill 

While our city was swept by flames, 
An Italian tore, and he prayed and he swore, 

And he called all his saints by name. 

When, deaf or atar, they answered him not, 

He dissolved into filial tears; 
In the red-black sky still the pyre blazed high 

Of the city he'd loved for years. 

Then a sudden thought lit his swarthy face, 
"The Patron! St. Francis, the blest!" 

Tn relief from despair, he plunged down the long stair 
To his house with its relic chest. 

42 



THE REASON WHY 43 

Quoth he, as a banner of silk he unfurled, 

"This is Francis Assisi's hour; 
A saint of such fame must defend his name, 

Our homes he must save by his power." 

That banner he waved that Assisi might see, 

But still the flames rolled on; 
"O Francis! behold the folk and the gold!" 

But by morning the city was gone. 

All night he had borne St. Franci3 on high 

Frcm ea-'h point of that rampart-wall. 
"What's the use of a saint!" with his blasphemous plaint 
He collapsed, Assisi and all. 

Next day, quite limp from the shock to his faith. 

That banner he found where it lay 
On a roof, with the face staring up in disgrace, 

Half buried in ashes of gray. 

That face! '"Tis Francis of Sales!" he cried: 

" O Mother of God ! " he wailed ; 
"What's the patron about that he didn't watch out ? 

Or in penance, perhaps, I have failed." 

"O Francis Asis! How did Sales get in ? 

'Tis not he has the charge of our town ; 
Hew dare a saint rob a saint ot his job 

And let all the houses burn down ?" 

He seized the staff of that banner defamed. 

As anger burst forth from despair; 
"If this Frenchman likes iire he shall have his desire; 

San Francisco's fate let him share." 

As a living coal dropped down at his feet 

To its sacrificial flame, 
He touched the fold of that silk and gold. 

And he burned it, the face and the name. 

That martyr ablaze he wigwagged aloft 

With jeers that were pious complaints; 
For another's mistake. Sales dropped at the stake. 

As is often the habit of saints. 

So that's why the City of Francis was burned; 

The wrong saint was called to defend. 
If Assisi'd been there he'd have heard the wild prayer, 

And mayhap would have changed the end. 



FRANCISCA GLORIOSA 

A crown on her head and triumphant, Francisca shall mount to her seat; 

Her sceptre, a shaft of the lightning, all enemies under her feet; 

The ocean of oceans her conquest, the nations their tribute shall bring 

To her ashes abloom like an Eden, the home of perpetual Spring. 

And the Orient's stores of the ages and the northland's frozen gold, 

Still red with the fires of Aurora, where it burnt on her altars of old, 

Shall build her a house of such splendor that masters of progress shall own 

Her a queen among cities, her prowess, that spirit sublimed which is known 

To the souls that, like metal concentrate, have passed through the crucible's 

test. 
Then the world shall unite with her children to hail her, "Francisca the 

Blest!" 



44 




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